Grief

My maternal grandfather's death was the first time sorrow and grief touched my life. Fourteen years later, I am stronger, having seen more, having lost more loved ones. But on 27 June each year I am reminded of the first person I ever had to say goodbye to.

Why do we grieve? We do not grieve for the person who is gone. He or she is already free and, I believe, in a place where yearnings are unknown. We grieve for ourselves. For that smile we will never see again. For that support we will never find again. For that conversation we will never have again. For that companion we will never meet again on earth. The person who is no more is at peace. It is we who are left to wander, to drift, to seek endlessly for that peace in this life, which is waiting for us, if we would only let it be.



More than God, I believe it is the loved ones who walk this earth no more who look out for me. I imagine each of my well-wishers as a guardian angel, fervently wishing me happiness. I do not need to worship them like I would a God. A loving memory is all I need. And from that I can draw strength in all my hopes and dreams. There are good spirits out there who sincerely want what is best for me.


Each precious soul who no longer lives is a star in my sky, looking out for me, shining down and brightening up my way, occasionally playing hide-and-seek, but always, always, emerging to guide my steps in infinite wisdom. And to know that is to walk in peace.